


It's a Long story

by MyRegardstotheReader



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Murder, Strong Women, belle beaufont, death to theo Galavan, new gotham villain, original business
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyRegardstotheReader/pseuds/MyRegardstotheReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Available on Tumblr as well) Present day Gotham tries to figure out and recover from the death of Theo Galavan. It is a mystery that begins to unfold before everyone as the new struggle for power within the city is at an upset. Meanwhile, Victor goes back to the beginning of how he and the infamous Belle Beaufont became the power couple they are today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

“Victor… are you ever going to tell me how you two met?” Oswald asked as he sat back on the couch. Wine in hand, he cocked a brow up Victor, his assassin and right hand man. It had all happened like a madhouse. The murder of Galavan had not been planned, it had not been expected. However, last night was the first time Oswald Cobblepot had met the infamous Belle Beaufort, and it would never be the last time he would see her. 

Everyone said she was the rich girl type, partied on the weekend, worked for her families company during the week. She was a wild child. She was an experience, and Oswald Cobblepot was impressed. Because his cold, stone faced assassin held her in his arms last night like the world’s most impressed arm candy. 

Oswald could recount exactly how the night went, and it had not gone according to plan. Galavan had invited him to the Beaufort galla, a charity ball to support the homeless. The Beaufort’s were a family that rivaled even the Waynes in name, though, they had always done business with the Waynes. One should always try to impress a Wayne. One should never cross a Beaufort. 

“It’s… a rather long story.” Victor smirked as he took his scotch glass up to his lips and took a long hard sip.

“We have a long time till sunrise.” Oswald cocked a brow as the pale male nodded, both making a face as they recalled their ‘house arrest’. Detective Jim Gordon was just outside the house, and as much as Oswald wanted to talk to Jim, convince him of what really happened, he knew better. His friend would find the evidence and figure it out. However, Jim would not be able to put the ‘fiend’ of this tragedy behind bars, even though Gotham was healthier. The city was healing, after the Waynes, after Falcone, after Essen, the city was healing. The mayoral race was still running, but no longer was Galavan a candidate.

Hard to run for Mayor when your neck is snapped. 

They were to stay in this house till Jim was convinced they hadn’t done it. Which didn’t bother Oswald… nor did it seem to bother Victor. 

“It started three years ago, before Belle was CEO of the company, before you, before all of this. It started like most of my stories.” Victor sent a smirk to Oswald who situated himself to become more comfy on the couch. He always loved Victor’s stories. “It started with me taking a job.”

~~~~ Three Years Prior ~~~~

Victor took the job as he took all the rest. It was a simple kill and drop. Show up, take out the target, don’t be seen, don’t be heard, disappear. It was the body and the newsline they wanted, not a villain. They were the easiest jobs. It was some rich girl, a party girl, a heiress of some kind. Killian Merryl. He hated that name just on principle, but Victor Zsasz didn’t like to judge. He also didn’t ask why, it was a job. Falcone said take her out, and she was good as dead. 

It was saturday morning, exactly 2:45 am when he heard the usual stirring of people leaving the club. The female had entered with a group of girls but he had watched her for the last three weekends before he was supposed to aim and fire. She would go in with five or six girls, but then she would leave with only one friend to catch a cab. Victor didn’t like to kill anyone who was not strictly necessary. People were irritating and he hated most of these brainless humans as it was, but no need to add to his work. 

The plan was to take her out before she could catch a cab and never be seen. 

But as he stood against the black of the alley wall, the silencer aimed and ready as Killian rounded the corner, something stopped him. The other girl she was with turned towards him and looked him dead in the eyes. She saw him, the friend saw him and suddenly he had no choice. He would have to kill them both. 

Victor pulled the trigger and Killain dropped, her corpse hit the ground as the bullet wound in her temple bleed out quickly. He stepped out into the light of the street, dim as it was, it was clear the other female knew. Long blonde, almost silver hair, glitter covering her strands of hair, her make-up was smudged but he could see her eyes, they were the most concerning thing. Her iris’ were steel, almost a smoke colored grey. The other female looked him dead in the eye before looking to the other girl on the ground. 

There was nothing said, but the look in her eyes was dangerous as Victor raised his gun again. Only, she stepped back, once, then twice, pulling her purse off her shoulder and visibly looking in it, her eyes darting to him. 

Then she spoke. “My keys! Damn!...” She backed up more so she was already at the corner her body turning towards the club. “Hold on Killain! I’ll be right back! I think I left my keys on the bar!” Victor had his chance, but she began to walk back to the club, riffling through her purse as if her friend was not on the ground. 

He should have killed her. 

Victor Zsasz stepped back into the shadow, coiling back into the darkness, his gloves took him up the fire escape of the building and onto the roof where he ducked down for a moment. He took out the box cutter from his pocket, and placed it against his wrist. Slowly, exactly, he ran it across his skin. 

“16.” His breath was soft and even, his air controlled, the relief that washed over him was instant. His thoughts were silent.

The night was not silent. There was another buzz as the club doors opened. 

“Oh! Thank you! I found them, silly me! They were in my bra… Have a good night!” Victor flipped to look over the edge of the building as he watched her. The steel eyed girl walk in her dark pumps towards the corner. Victor watched as she stopped at the corner, took in the sight then let loose a scream that he thought was rather impressive. “KILLAIN! HELP! SOMEONE…. SOMEONE HELP! SHE’S BEEN SHOT! HELP!”

People rushed from the doorway to the female who sunk to her knees, screaming more. A smirk crawled across his face as she looked up, her screaming silenced for a bit as she caught his eye again. Only, this time, she seemed to mouth something, he couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but he took his chance to disappear into the night. 

Thinking back on it, Victor could almost imagine she looked him in the eye and mouthed a ‘thank you.’


	2. New Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While present day Belle Beaufont and Jim Gordan sit down on the porch to discuss the night, back in past Victor runs into the silver eyed girl again… but not as he expected to.

Chapter one: New Order.

Belle Beaufont smiled brightly at the officer in the front of the house as he called her down for questioning. The lawn of the estate was crawling with cops, the detective seemed ready to bust a blood vessel as he looked up at her.

“I’m surprised, Detective Gordon, you didn’t just ask all of us to come to the police station. This is rather unorthodox.” Belle chuckled lightly as she gave out her hand for him. Gordon shook her hand as she held his grip equally. The detective everyone was talking about but she never saw. Then again, Belle Beaufont was not the kind of girl to end in a pair of handcuffs. With a sigh, he nodded and motioned for her to come and sit at one of the tables on the porch. 

“Thank you for coming Ms. Beaufont-”

“Belle, please.” She smoothed out her skirt as she slipped down into the chair easily. 

“Belle, Thank you again for coming. I know this is rather unorthodox, but I believe Oswald Cobblepot is the culprit for the crime and if I let him out of this house, he will surely find a way to cover his tracks, or skip town.” Jim spoke softly, only to furrow his brows as Belle let out a light giggle as she shook her head. As most people, it took a moment for them to notice, but when he noticed, his body reacted quickly. The steel eyes, the dark grey almost black that were her iris’. He coughed as he realized he was staring and pulled his eyes away.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s hard for most people to come to terms with. It was a result of my birth, the doctors aren’t even sure how it happened. They think I had something dropped in my eyes that changed the color of my eyes, but I’ve just come to love the color.” She explained with a soft expression. Belle watched the detective awkwardly shift in his chair as she watched him with intrigue. 

“I… What did you see from last night?” He directed the question. Belle’s lips curled up in a smirk, a smirk that Jim noticed. For a moment, he seemed out of his element as she leaned back in the porch seat. 

“Direct and right to the point. I almost took you for a legitimate detective there.” Her voice was now harsh, gritty, almost venomous. Jim wheeled back and Belle’s smirk turned almost snake like as she crossed her right leg over her left leg. “Oh, were you expecting a nice greeting? You are accusing a new friend of mine of murder. Is that what you were hoping I’d say? I’d throw him under the bus for you. Were you wrapped around Galavan’s finger too? I was hoping you were so much smarter than this.”

Jim blinked, speechless for a moment. Belle’s once soft expression was direct, refined, her shoulders squared and hands folded in her lap. 

“I… You… What just happened here?” He blurted out, taken back.

“What happened is Theo Galavan was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and wanted to clean up the city, or so he says. Only, he made it bad for business, and I will do just about anything to someone who threatens what is mine.” Belle stated darkly, her lips turned down into a scowl as she cocked a brow up. At this moment, two large men stepped up to the porch. Jim was wheeling, she could see the cogs turning in his head as she waved with one hand, and they pushed past any officers in their way. 

The men took her hands, as if she were a dainty flower and lifted her up onto her feet. “Wait! You can’t leave.”

“I do believe I am within my rights to leave. Have a good day Detective. This was very informative.” She was back to sickly sweet. A soft smile on her face, she stepped away from the seat, smoothing out her skirt. Jim jumped up, but one of the large men instantly snatched him by the shoulder and all but shoved him back into his seat.

“Did you kill Theo Galavan?” Jim Gordon blurted out as Belle Beaufont looked at him from over her shoulder. A soft, welcoming smile as she winked at him. Then just as smoothly as she walked up to the porch, she walked off it and towards a light blue hyundai accent. The large men opened the back for her as she slipped inside and they buckled her in. 

Jim was up on his feet. “MISS BEAUFONT!” He shouted but Belle was already being driven off when Bullock rounded the porch and looked to Jim. 

“Who are you screaming at?” Bullock asked with a bemused look on his face.

“Belle Beaufont…. I think she just confessed to killing Theo Galavant.” Jim hissed lowly, keeping his voice down as he turned to Harvey. Harvey who had been half a sip into his coffee stopped. Then he shook his head and put up his other hand in defeat. 

“No. No Jim. Not again.” He growled as Jim shot a questioning look to his partner. “Look, I let you take on the Wayne murder, and look what that got us. No! I’m putting my foot down this time. If Belle Beaufont murdered Theo Galavant, there is not a person in this city that will back you in taking you down. Including me. I say… we drop the case and move on. Or arrest Penguin.”

“No!” Jim huffed as he put his hands to his hips. “If she is the murderer, I won’t arrest him.”

“Fucking…. Jim! What part of not again did you not hear.” Harvey groaned, almost going after Jim who headed inside. “Jim! It’s 6 A.M…. Can’t… Can’t I atleast get more coffee before you try to get us killed… AGAIN!”

~~~Three Years ago~~~

“Victor! Oh there you are!” Victor stepped up into the office, hands by his side as the two guards eyed him. Then he put out his arms and let them pat him down, seeing his two weapons and eyeing him suspiciously. “Boys, let him in, he’s helping us out.”

Victor was allowed into the office, dusting off his jacket as Thomas Beaufont grinned and waved for him to come inside. Once the door closed behind him, he cocked his non-existent brow up at Thomas who was brimming. The man stood up, straightening his suit as he walked from the desk he was perched on and put out his hand. Victor shook his hand, never truly used to the man’s exuberant shake. 

“Thank you for coming, Victor, you know I appreciate your craft and craftmanship.” Thomas chuckled as Victor smirked and nodded. Thomas motioned for him to sit only to stand with confusion. The silver eyes… he eyed the female who was strewn on the floor in front of the couch he usually sat on. She was on her stomach, papers and folders all around her, a laptop on the ground in front of her. It seemed like she was working on a project, but looked up at him as Victor stepped to the couch. 

“Oh! Belle, come say hello to Victor, he’s going to helping us.” Thomas grinned as Belle slipped to her bare feet gracefully. Victor watched silently as she smiled and stepped away from her mess. Her sundress was an off white with sketched flowers that were faded and soft, it had a brown weaved leather belt and framed her hips nicely. Her legs looked longer in the dress as she put out her hand to him.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” She smiled sweetly, her eyes gleaming with the same smile. He didn’t know if she remembered him at all, or if she really saw him. But he would not forget those eyes. The female who looked him in the eye, looked death in the eye and walked away. Danger was in those eyes that night. But here, it was kindness as she flexed and relaxed her toes against the office carpet. Victor took her hand and brought it to his lips. 

“Charming, as ever.” Thomas laughed as Belle visibly blushed and curtsied ever so slightly. “Well, Belle, walk him through the project while I go retrieve Jeremy. I need his schematics.” Thomas sauntered off.

It was silent for a moment as Belle walked back to her spot, lowered herself back down, and went right back to clicking away at her laptop. “Well, go ahead and get comfortable. I enjoy using a desk but Father’s made his mess rather unusable today. So I opted for the floor.” She spoke over the screen to her computer.

“I see.” Victor answered as he slid onto the seat of the couch, careful not to ruin her piles of papers. He didn’t actually know how to approach the subject. Did she actually know who he was? What he was? Did she remember. He had taken six or seven jobs since that night, it had been atleast three months.

“Yes I remember you, no I don’t mind that my father hired my best friend’s killer, and yes, I know what my father pays you for.” She spoke point blank and Victor furrowed his brows before she looked up from her screen and smirk. “Anything else?”

Victor hated when people knew they were smart. But she grinned, bubbled almost as she clambered up off the floor and slipped onto the couch next to him. “What is the new job?” 

“Oh you’re no fun.” She teased before she brushed her hair back with her fingers. “There is a building my father wants. He has a contract with Falcone, if he gets the building and land rights, Falcone will run a club over it. My father gets the rent money and half of the safety money, but Falcone gets prime real estate, gets to put his club on it. They’ve found the perfect place but the owner… is rather irritating. He won’t sell, despite his building going under, his club barely does anything. It’s sort of a ‘we’re now friends’ kind of venture and my father wants it to go without a hitch. I am working on the paper work for it, all the legal work for it…. but we need your help… convincing him to sign every last paper.” 

Victor looked her up from her painted toes poked under her to the long clean hair down around her shoulders, to her steel eyes. They were something of a mystery and he liked the idea of her. Rich girl with danger in her veins, realistic to what’s going on, and didn’t hold a grudge. He did kill her best friend as she said. But liking the idea of a person and actually liking that person are different. “Are you coming to this paper signing?” 

“No.” She whined as she leaned back and let her arms fall off the back of the chair. “Father thinks I should just work on the paperwork part of the business. If I’m going to be CEO one day, and I will, I have to do as he says till he thinks I’m ready.” 

Victor cocked a brow up at her as she smiled at him. “What?”

“You’re not what I imagined.” She whispered and with that, she slithered back down to the floor and went right back to clicking away at her laptop. Victor rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the lop sided smirk on his lips as they fell into a comfortable silence. 

“AH! I have them now. Are we up to speed?” Thomas reentered the room, breaking the silence and Victor stood up and followed the man towards the desk.


	3. Wild One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present day Edward Nygma is faced with a riddle that he may or may not have given the answer to Thomas Beaufont on accident; all while back in the past Victor runs into Belle at Fish’s.

Chapter two: Wild One

Edward stood above the body of Theo Galavan with peaked interest as he hopped from one spot to another. He needed something to keep him from going insane. Actually and quite unfortunately, literally what he was trying. The voices were becoming somewhat irritating, his second self was always blabbering over his shoulder about something or the other. But here… here he was concentrated and pulled back.

“Mr. Nygma?” Edward looked up with shock as a man in a suit walked towards him, his long black and silver cane clicked against the ballroom floors. The area was public, as a giant ballroom for galla’s and events for the rich and famous. The ceiling decorated with a chandelier that would rival King Henry’s, even the french would be jealous. However, the man who walked towards him was of the same class, maybe even higher than the building itself. His suit was pressed, name brand and exclusive. His silver and grey hair was brushed back, no need for oils or grease as it was short and well groomed, his mustache the same way. 

“Yes… who are you?” He pulled back, his notepad in his hands shook a bit. But…. but… the body was not fully inspected yet. Lee had agreed to let him get a full inspection first before she took a look on the body. Besides, she wanted to talk with Jim, or atleast that’s what she said. Ed was not going to question the chance to be hands on. Lee was the best medical examiner the police station had taken on in years. In his high opinion.

“I am Thomas Beaufont. I would just like to talk to you… about your findings.” Thomas spoke as he stopped a foot from Edward. Two clacks, that’s all it would take. Edward could count them, one and two, the man would be on him if he wanted. Obvious militia training, his arms and legs were strong, he was not just a sit down man. He held himself tall and straight, always started with his left foot. Edward looked up to the man. 

“When is a man drowned, but he is not wet?” Edward blurted out, and Thomas narrowed his eyes. They were a light, almost hazy blue color, complete contrast to his dark black hair. 

“Are you playing with me Boy?”

“I am actually an adult, but do you give up?” Edward answered.

“If I guess this, will you tell me what I want?” Thomas stated with a dark tone. One click. He was near to Edward. One step backwards, then a pointed pen. Edward watched his steps and movements quickly as he turned back to the body.

“It’s Quicksand.”

“Well that’s hardly fair, you didn’t let me guess.” Thomas chuckled lowly as he circled the body of Theo Galavan on the opposite side. “I presume there is a reason for the riddle?”  
Edward looked up as Thomas Beaufont cocked a brow, silver and smoke grey mixed on his face. “Yes. You see, you can drown in quicksand and not be wet. Mr. Galavan died from asphyxiation but he was not-” Edward caught himself.

Thomas Beaufont smirked as he looked to the genius. He had almost slipped and given a civilian the reason for death. Or maybe he had and he couldn’t take it back as Thomas nodded and turned, walking from Edward towards the exit. “That’s all I needed!”

But… Edward retracted his words and thought over them. Had he given away the reason? He had said the cause of death but he had not said the reason. Because most death by asphyxiation is from choking or being choked. Only, like the riddle, he was not wet… Theo was not choked. 

“I did not tell you the answer!” Ed called after him, but found the man was clacking away. The doors opened and two smaller humans walked beside the man. The lasting image Edward Nygma had was of Thomas Beaufont walking with a man about Ed’s age beside him and a girl possibly barely hitting twenty in just a suit on the other side. They threw looks over their shoulder as they walked on, turning back to follow the man.

Edward gulped for air as he turned away and internally cursed himself.

“ED!” He yanked back around to the opposite entrance as Harvey came storming in, actually dragging Jim behind him. 

“Nygma, we have a riddle for you this time!” Harvey snorted as he chugged from his coffee.

“Really?” Ed eyed the man, even bounced a bit as Jim glared at Harvey who grinned from ear to earn.

“What is a room you can’t enter?”

Ed pulled back, he wasn’t actually expecting a riddle. But Jim was endulging him and he grinned. “A mushroom, of course.” 

“Yes.” Jim smiled with a light laugh.

“Now we have a conundrum for you.” Harvey announced as they stepped up closer. “How do you arrest a Beaufont.” Ed’s eyes went wide as he resisted looking back at the door then back to Harvey. Resist, insist nothing is wrong. Edward clicked his pen back and forth for a moment as he thought over the information repeatedly for a bit. One click, a Beaufont. Two click, oh dear, he was in trouble. Three click, Beaufont, that name was familiar.

“Beaufont owns Beaumont Industries…”  
“And Jim wants to arrest the CEO.” Harvey let out one of his chipped laughs as he looked to Jim. “How many times are you going to get us almost killed?”

“Jim, Beaumont industries is the leading company for weapon and protection wear. Beaumont also has contracts and owns buildings all over the city.” Edward explained as Jim rolled his eyes.

“You make it sound like they are Falcone.” Jim grumbled with a grim expression.

“You remember that bullet proof vest you’re so fond of saving your life? It’s a Beaumont. We arrest Belle and no more support. No more funds for the police station, no more fancy life saving clothing, no guns. Everyone likes the Waynes because they were good people. Everyone feared Falcone because he killed people. Everyone stays clear of the Beauforts because … you don’t cross a Beaufort. They train assassins like petco trains dogs. Jim, I’m begging you… drop this case.”

Edward looked between the two of them before he put up his hand in the air. The tense moment faded as Jim looked to the genius with a serious look. “Yes Ed?”

“Do you want to know how Theo Galavan died?”

“Sure.” Jim stepped from Harvey who groaned and threw his head back in dispair. 

“Someone snapped his neck just enough to paralyze him…. and collapse his trachea….he suffocated… without being choked.” Edward grinned, beamed actually, as he clicked his pen. “Want to know how they did it?” 

“I hate you, Gordon, know this.”

“How did they do it, Ed?” Jim ignored Harvey’s bemoaning as Edward lit up even brighter as he pulled up his notepad. 

 

~~~~~Three Years earlier~~~~~~

Victor was outside the club this time, but not to shoot someone. However, he found too late that Belle Beaufont was inside, and the look on her face when she looked up and saw him made him want to disappear into the shadows. She had that bubbling smile and he knew what she was going to say. He could practically hear it as she danced through the crowd inside Fish-Mooney’s, large drink in hand. 

“Don’t say it.” He cut her short. He was in no mood for her loud, smiley, bird chirping. Though usually it didn’t mind him when he ran into the Beaufont girl, as her father and Falcone were best friends now. He had seen Thomas Beaufont more in the last two months than he ever had in the last two years. Not that he minded working for the man, he paid well and kept it short and simple. Belle, however, was … so…. NICE! 

It was sickening how nice she was. But he knew! VICTOR KNEW! Oh he knew she could be mean. He knew she could be vicious and sharp tongued, he knew it because he had seen it. Only, she never did it to him. She was always so happy, so bouncy, so … KIND… and he found it drove him insane that she never seemed angry at him. “Say what?”

Her giggle was soft as she took another sip of her drink, twirling around. Victor was quick, like a viper, catching her as she stumbled a bit. His arms around her waist as he caught her drink hand and lifted her back to center slowly. Like a graceful ballet, she lifted her head to be near his as she smiled that same sparkly, soft smile. “We have to stop meeting like this.” He whispered lowly.

Belle giggled again as she steadied herself and slipped from his hands. “No… I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Yes you were.” He cocked his right eyebrow up at her, watching her situate her short club dress on her frame. “I could see it on your face.”

Belle took a sip of her martini, her eyes watching him over the rim the whole time. “... Maybe.” She slurred.

“What are you doing here?” Victor directed as she danced around him, moving from his right side to his left. 

“Dancing… what are you doing here?” She asked, leaning up against him. One thing he knew, she was not shy about physical contact. Belle Beaufont hugged everyone! Everyone, she would run up and wrap arms around her friends and colleagues from college. She hugged her father long and hard, even her mother and brother. Though, she hadn’t hugged Victor yet, he still considered she hugged everyone. 

“Work.”

“Of course.” She scoffed as she shot him a smile. “I’ll leave you to it.” Victor watched her stumble a second time, and he could not stop himself the second time just as much as he could the first time. He lunged forward, arms wrapped around her waist and hoisted her back up. Her hair danced over his shoulder as she leaned back into him like he were a soft pillow. Lips pulled up in a smile, she bent backwards to smile up at him.

“I see up your nose.” She giggled childishly as Victor rolled his eyes. 

“How much have you had?” The look on her face was beyond amusing. He cracked a smile, even laughed lightly as began to beam again. 

“I like your laugh.” She whispered as Victor shook his head and forced her to stand up straight again.He turned her around to face him and she swayed but stood. There was a moment of silence as she looked up at him, unable to keep his eye as she swayed, the alcohol obvious in her system. Even though her kindness itched him when they seemed to run into each other, Victor actually enjoyed it. People as a whole tended to treat him like a monster out of a story book, or like a servant. Falcone was fascinated by his work, but he never felt human around him. Thomas only saw him as another employee. Even Fish-mooney feared him and hated him. 

This girl smiled at him… and he had murdered her friend. It was a job, so why did she never frown at him. 

“That night… what did you say to me before I disappeared?” Victor asked, almost out of breath as he watched her head lull back. Jumping in his skin, Victor moved to support her head, bringing her back to look at him. She laughed and lay almost boneless, jelly and limp in his arms as her laughter grew harder. It shook her whole body.

“I told you to run away.” She grew bones slowly as she stood up, taking the last sip of her alcohol and nearly dropped it. Victor kept a steady hand on her. It never occurred to him that he could have never touched her or supported her. But here he was, holding her up, taking in her face inch by inch. Then his eyes found her eyes, devouring the steel that danced around his face, finally steady as she kept the eye contact with him… for only a moment. 

“Why?”

“Because the police were coming, why else?” She stood firmly now, only, she didn’t slip from his arms. Only leaned back against him, reaching over his shoulder to hand her glass to someone. Victor turned his head to watch the bartender take the glass, marking her hand with an ‘X’ in a marker. “Guess I’m cut off now.” She giggled. 

Victor couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips, the small chuckle as she rested her head on her arm that was stretched over his shoulder, leaning up against him. “You don’t… hate me?”

His voice was soft and low, he moved a hand to brush her long hair from her face. It fell like soft bunny fur behind her ear and down her back. She took very good care of it, no dead ends, layers were even, and it was the softest hair he’d ever felt. 

“I hate that Falcone had her killed.” Belle let out a sigh, the alcohol on her breath blown in his face. It smelt like baked apples and vodka. That explained the green color of the liquid in her martini glass. “But not you.”

Victor sighed as he hooked his arm down, struggling a bit with her clumsy, almost corpse like form as he got his arm under her knees. Pulling her up like a child, thankful her dress wasn’t tight at the bottom, but actually flowy. 

“You can’t sleep on me.” He huffed in her ear as he turned from the club and walked towards the exit. He would have to be late to Fish’s job. Then again, he never said when he would arrive. First, he would get Belle into a cab on her way home, then he’d find out what Fish wanted with him. Probably something stupid and irrelevant.

“Pfft! Why not?” Belle laughed in his ear as he pushed through the doorway, out into the chill of the night. The shiver that ran down her body made him pull her closer, his arms wrapped around her tighter. He stood out at the curb, the cabs still flying by, he watched one take notice of them and instantly pull over. 

“Because beds are much better.” He answered as the cab stopped. Somehow, and a miracle it must be, he opened the door and dropped her into the seat, looking to the man in the driver seat. Victor pulled his wallet from inside his jacket pocket as Belle flopped against the seat and tried to buckle in the best she could. It was almost a laughable thing, but Victor kept a straight face as he handed over a good chunk of change. “She gets home, and no where else. She’s a Beaufont.” 

That’s all that was needed as Victor pulled back and slapped the door shut. 

Victor Zsasz stood there, watching the cab drive away. When did he become so comfortable with someone like that. It was the small things. Seeing her at a desk in Falcone’s library, typing away at something, smiling up at him. Seeing her in the halls with her father, chatting away with such a serious face. Seeing her just as she walked up to him, leaning over whatever table he was at and starting up some sort of conversation. 

It was the softness of her. Always comforting, soft colors, her clothes fit just right but they were of cotton and knits. She wore sweaters and slacks, she wore skirts and blouses, florals were often and beautiful on her. He was no judge of clothing, but he liked the almost warm, welcoming aura she produced. At the same time, it irked him down to the core. 

No woman should make him such a mix of emotions he never messed with. Victor Zsasz told himself to never let Belle Beaufont get underneath his skin. But it had been four months, and she was a tattoo on him. Even if he didn’t like to acknowledge it.


	4. Living Moments

Oswald stood up, it was now around 10 AM, and he was starving. His mother lay in a large bed upstairs, gone to the world. Butch was flopped against the library floor with three pillows and his jacket, which was draped over him, dead to the world. “Are you hungry?”

Victor stood up from his seat, collecting their alcohol glasses and following his employer into the kitchen. “Always.” He snickered as he placed the glasses into the sink and propped himself up against the sink. 

“Do you think she did it?” Oswald asked, not turning to look at Victor. Thin fingers wrapped around a bag of bread as he pulled it from the cupboard. He was retrieving peanut butter and jelly, putting out plates. His whole body on autopilot as he went about making two sandwiches. 

“I know she did.” Victor spoke, handing Oswald a butter knife. Oswald barely recognized that he had the knife in his hand, or that Victor was watching him intently as he went about spreading the peanut butter. 

“How could she? I saw the body.” Oswald’s voice felt weak as his hands shook. The shock of the whole event was beginning to wear off. He could feel the physical change on him as he grabbed the bottle of jelly and turned it over. The purple jelly plopped out with every squeeze as he did. He was starving, but his body was ready to collapse. Victor held still, Oswald had snapped many times when the man jumped to help him. 

He could do this on his own, he would not rest on anyone but himself. Even if it killed him.

But the companionship and loyalty that Victor gave him were appreciated, and he showed it however he could. Like knowing how much peanut butter and jelly Victor liked on his sandwich. Like grabbing a bag out of the cabinet of Victor’s chips and sprinkling his sandwich with them before closing up Victors, then putting the chips on the side of his own sandwich. 

Victor sat next to him on the bar as Oswald took soft, hesitant bites of his sandwich. 

“I’ve learned the hard way that Belle is capable of many things, including magnificent acts of violence.” Victor spoke before he took a bite of his sandwich. Oswald felt the cold, trained eyes on him, and leaned closer to the counter, ready to fall asleep in his own meal. 

“What about his sister… I didn’t see her.” Oswald looked as best he could to Victor without actually moving his head. Any shift of his body could send him straight to the floor. Victor’s lips twitched and Oswald felt more content at that. Oswald took a chip and bit into it, munching slowly and half alive as he was. He was exhausted and close to breaking, but he could not fall asleep until his house arrest was lifted. 

“Ms. Galavan and I came to an understanding.” Victor chuckled to himself as he took another bite of his sandwich. Oswald could hear the crunching over his own as Victor proudly munched on his sandwich. He didn’t want to know what it was that Victor had done to recieve such a thing. Understanding? From that monster of a woman, he must of done something horrible. So he left it at that, grabbing for one of the bottles of welch’s on the bar and near yanking the cap off. Guzzling a bit of the bottle before he continued his eating. 

“As long as no one touches my mother… ever again.” Oswald grumbled, his eyes felt red and raw from all the straining he had done in the last day. He had not slept in what felt like weeks. Now that she was home, in his home, safely tucked away, he might find rest. 

“No one will ever touch her, or you, again…” Victor shot a look to Oswald before his lips did the twitch one more time, and he turned back to his food. Oswald could not take the conversation of what he owed the Beaufont’s right now. Thinking on it would only make it hurt that much more. 

“You never finished the story.” 

“Oh… where did I leave off?” Victor took his own bottle of juice as he took another swig. He moved as to crack his back. 

“You just finished telling me about her being drunk in Fish-Mooney’s…” Oswald spoke. 

“Well… there’s not much more to know.” Victor confessed.

“Don’t give me that… when we walked in the gala last night, she ran up to you and hugged you. I watched you spin her around. You asked if she had been a good girl… that just doesn’t happen.” Oswald snorted. He saw the change on Victor’s face as the man stretched back and cracked more of his spine. “And what’s this personal experience with her violence?”

“That actually happened… just a week after Fish-Mooney’s, actually.”

~~~~Three Years Earlier~~~~

Victor stood in the office of Beaufort Industries as he seemed to be doing often. Falcone was in Thomas’ office, and they were talking, happily he might add. There was actually no reason for him to be there, but Falcone had insisted. For no reason reason, but asked him and Victor said yes. For some reason, he wanted to be in the building. He didn’t want to say it, but the idea of seeing Belle there made it worth the irritation of going.

He hadn’t seen her since he sent her home in the back of the cab. A smirk still came to his lips remembering how she fumbled with the seat belt and ended up forgoing it with a pout. It had been… adorable. Never would he say it outloud, but he had found her adorable. Like a small puppy or kitten, soft and gentle, acting big but were truly too small to function.   
He really ought to stop this… maybe she was rubbing off on him. It was gross. 

“Victor?” He turned, his hands behind his back, spine straight. His eyes caught Belle as she stood beside another male, he wore more military grade clothing. It was the way her eyes softened that he needed, that he craved as he turned.

“Belle.” He stated point blank, watching her excuse the male to her side and stepped up to him.

“Long time… no flop.” She teased with a grin. “Sorry about that, I did not mean to impede on your job. I know my work is hard enough without a drunk girl lying on me.” 

Victor held back words as he looked down at her. She motioned for him to follow her. He was silent as he did just that. Follow her, his feet matching her pace as she walked opposite of her father’s office. A cream colored hallway with many large windows, paintings and complimenting wall hangings. The place was peaceful, despite his visual on men and women sparing below. He could see the way they flipped and lunged on the lower floor made for training. They were being trained to kill without hesitation. 

“How are you?” Victor was taken aback by her question as she stepped into her office, motioning for him to join her. He slid into the glass cased office and shut the door behind him. Though they had talked often, it was small, nothing more than quick quips or witty banter. 

No one ever asked him how he was. 

“Fine.” He answered. “How are you?”

“I’m fine as well. It’s good to see you. I feared you’d always remember me as a drunk snob.” She snorted as she propped herself on the desk. 

“You did drink more than usual.” 

“I was celebrating… or grieving.” She murmured as she looked to her lap. Victor stepped up, not sure how to approach the subject.

“What were you drinking for?” He was never afraid to ask, but he did hope she did not become hurt or offended that he did. He had only seen her angry a few times, but she never directed it towards him. Maybe… Maybe he did want her to be offended. He wanted to test it, see if the kindness was only flesh deep. 

“No one.” She stated sharply, not looking to him. There, he felt it, that kindness slip. She wanted to say something, the topic had brought something up. 

“Was it for Killain?” He asked.  
“No.” Her voice was sharper, and this time her eyes shot up.

“Is that why you’ve drank more recently. I know you know where your limits are, but recently I’ve noticed you try harder and harder.” The words fell from his lips. During the week she was a straight edge, always seen going and coming from work. Never a scandal, always in control. Even today, a wednesday, she wore fashionable jeans, a soft floral tank-top under a flowey white, sheer blouse. Her hair was in a messy bun that hand tendrils falling down, tickling her shoulders. 

“Stop.” She warned, her eyes growing sharp. Just like that night. 

“You should stop.” He shot back, his voice just as sharp. Danger sparkled in her steel eyes as her fingers dug into her desk. 

“Stop what? What did i do?” She hissed, her teeth gritted. It was amazing, how under her skin he was all of a sudden. She had brought up the subject. Victor watched her like a hawk as she slid from the desk. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing.” He confessed as he gritted his teeth and stepped up to her. Belle stood her ground, her feet planted firmly and eyes just as focused. Unlike her drunken glance that was glazed over and lulled around. Here, she stared right back, almost didn’t blink. “But I killed Killain.”

“I SAID STOP!” There was a snap in her and he felt it before he saw it. Her hands planted against his chest and he was flung backwards. Her boots planted hard against his stomach as he saw her whirl around him. The kick was unexpected as he grunted. However, Victor was not about to be over powered. Feet moved, his limbs sprung and shot him from her next blow, and she looked to him like a hungry lion. “I was drinking to forget her!”

“You can’t erase memories… with alcohol.” Victor snickered.

“Watch me!” She hissed, snatching up something from her desk and Victor stopped. It was a blade… she had a sword. Belle nearly clipped him with it, only to clip him with her foot, tripping him. Victor let the fall take him down, only to roll away from the blade that embedded itself in the floor of her office. 

“I thought you said you did not hate me!” Victor shot back, standing as she lunged at him. He took her by the shoulders and struggled as she gave a mighty fight. He had to say he was impressed by her sheer force. Though, she was unrefined, she could take plenty of people out in her own. She obviously knew how to hold a sword, she swung it elegantly. Just like how she walked, and stood. 

“I’m working through some stuff.” Victor watched her hands and stopped her from taking out the gun from his own holster.   
“Do you hate me?” He snapped.

“NO!” She snapped back, only to land a harsh blow across his face. Victor stumbled back and for a moment the whole world was still. There were hot tears in her eyes as she stood there, panting, hands shaking. “I don’t hate you… I can’t… I can’t hate you…”

“Why? Why am I deserving of your kindness?” Victor laughed darkly. “I don’t want it, I don’t need it.”

“Because I’m a nice person.” She snarled back. He cocked up both brows at her in disbelief as she threw her arms up in the same disbelief. “I am!”

“Says the woman who tried to stab me with a sword.” He counted with a smug look on his face. Belle stepped up to him slowly, pulling and reigning herself back in. She even dabbed her cheeks. It was the first time she hugged him. She wrapped her arms around him fully and he stood there frozen. A hand behind his neck, another around his waist, she pulled him in tight. Her face was buried in his chest, he could feel her intake air and lean against him. 

Then he felt the bullet as it ran through his foot and he crumpled to the floor. “Says the man who shot my best friend.”

Belle Beaufont stood there, the smoking gun in her hand. HIS smoking gun. The pain was nothing compared to his surprize as she knelt down in front of him, set the gun aside, and pulled his shoe off. Belle Beaufont then proceeded to work and clean the wound, even wrapped it, disinfected it, and got him back up on it without the pain. She wrapped it so well he could go home and rest it. Despite the giant hole in the top of his shoe. 

“I may have over reacted.” She whispered. “But I am… working through things…”

Victor eyed her as if she had lost her mind. He was sure she had, but the smile on her face as she handed him back his gun was all he needed. They were even now. There was no talking as she walked him to the car and this time it was her paying for his ride home. He even liked the smug look on her face when she shut the cab door on him and watched the cab drive away. Falcone didn’t need him…. Victor wondered for a moment if Falcone was trying to set him up with Belle.

It might have been a failed plan, because he didn’t know any person who would want to be around him after that. Except, a week after he had been shot in the foot, he received a phone call. “Victor? Fantastic… I need a favor. Belle refuses to let anyone else but you come fix this problem, and I need it fixed… tonight.”


	5. Same Old

Belle sat in her office, papers were everywhere, but she was finally organized. After the incident this morning she had not expected to see her office again. She had actually been prepared for Jim to drag her some which way towards the police station. The evidence was against her, it would only take a matter of time before they tried something. Only, the problem being they could do nothing about it.

Belle actually felt disappointed that they hadn’t tried to arrest her. “Belle-darlin’?”

She looked up to her father and her face lit up in a smile. It was about 12:30, and he must be starving. “Lunch, already?” She giggled, standing up and walking towards her father. Her cream skirt was flowy and shorter in the front than the back, it matched the soft cream crop top with floral embroidery. She had taken her sweater off long ago, not feeling the need to be so covered up in her own office.

“Well, your mother had wanted to see you, but it seems that both she and I will be away for the rest of the day.” He excused as he handed over the small picnic basket with a sad smile. Belle pouted as she came around to meet him, taking the basket from him. “But Matthew is heading over for you, he seems hell bent on eating just the two of you as it is.”

Belle furrowed her brows, but accepted the side hug from her father either way. Nodding, she allowed him to walk away, his cane clicked against the hard wood. His assistant Marilyn and his secretary Jason were on his sides instantly. For her adviser, he still felt like a CEO to the touch, and Belle liked the idea of him still feared and revered. Rolling back on her heel, Belle’s bare feet padded against the hard wood as she wheeled around and walked to the large table within her office. It was only about five minutes later when the door to her office opened again.

“Matthew!” Belle brimmed as she bound over to him and he accepted her rather fast paced hug his way. She held him tightly against her as she inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. He smelt like deep forest and gun powder. It was harsh and thick on her tongue as she pulled back and looked up at him with a smile.

“Hey, You got the food?”

“Always, what is lunch without food.” She giggled as she pulled back and padded towards the table. Perching herself on a large chair, she nibbled on one of the slices of apples she had unpacked as Matthew unpacked his portion of food. He set out the food along the table and Belle watched intently.

“It’s done.” He stated.

“And does daddy know?”  
“You think he doesn’t know? I didn’t have to tell him anything.” Matthew took a potato chip out of his own ziplock bag and munched on it with vigor. He was starving, Belle could see it on his face. Without meaning, she touched his elbow, letting her fingers trail off him as they caught eyes. “Mom doesn’t know yet.”

“I’m sorry you had to do this.” She whispered, blurted out really as he looked to her. “I had to do it.”

“Oh shut up Belle, you think one idiot politician is going to make me lose an inch of sleep?” Matthew eyed her seriously before he shoved her by her shoulder and went back to his food. “Besides, this is my job.”

Belle took out the bun from it’s plate and bit into it slowly, enjoying the taste of the meat and vegetables and broth inside it. She would have to request these more often for food. Belle sat in the silence, munching along as Matthew plowed through his food. She knew now why he wanted to eat alone with her. He probably even was the reason father and mother were somewhere else for lunch. They always ate together on every other day. It was tradition. Ever since they all took on the paths their lives took them on, this was the one thing. Beaufont was a family to be remembered and Belle would make sure that they remembered just as much as everyone else.

As always, her mind trailed back to the incident, decoding the moment over and over again in her mind. “Jim Gordon knows… or atleast, I dropped a big enough hint. If he doesn’t come for me soon, he might be the wrong person.”

Matthew snorted as he grabbed the bottle of water and took a huge swig from it.

“Don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t going to, you already know what I think of this plan.” Matthew snorted again as he leaned back and looked to Belle. Her eyes had traveled to the basket, worrying her lower lip as she always did. Playing the puzzle, tilting it this way and that, fiddling with it and prodding at it till it unfolded.

“Okay, change the subject… how was Victor.” Matthew interjected and Belle’s lips lit up in a small smile. She could feel her cheeks warm as she looked to him.

“He was good.” She spoke as she leaned back in her seat, munching on her bun happier now that the subject was Victor.

“You are … ridiculous.” Matthew rolled his eyes. Belle shot him a look, only to break into a laugh as she leaned back in the large dining seat again. Her heart beat just a beat faster thinking of the assassin as she smiled into her food.

“What do you want me to say? Hmm… I honestly don’t know what you and daddy expected… Mom say this coming.” She winked at her brother as she put down her napkin and took back up the fruit from the plate. The dragon fruit was just perfect with a sprinkle of lemon juice and sugar.

“We didn’t expect you to end up with an assassin. Why didn’t you find some regular guy who is pretty on camera? Huh?” Belle cocked a brow at her brother.

“You have no room to talk, mister let me marry a russian stripper who turned out to be a mass serial killer!” Belle shot back.

“Hey! Bianca loves me and we write quite often. Besides… our relationship suits me.”

“As does Victor’s and mine.” Belle stuck her tongue out at him as she looked to her plate and poked at it with her fingers for a moment. “I don’t need someone who clings to me, or is desperately in need of me. I … I want someone to want me, to be with me because they choose to, who runs their own life and doesn’t need me to mom them. I run a multi-million dollar corporation and a black market army, I don’t need some idiot I can’t count on. Victor and I don’t see each other every day, but it doesn’t feel like we’ve ever been apart. He’s here when I need him, and he can ask the same of me.” She explained.

Matthew rolled his eye before flinging a potato chip at her face. Belle swatted it away and planted a chunk of dragon fruit square inbetween his eyes before it fell to his lap. They chuckled as they sat back in comfortable silence, eating.

Until Matthew broke it with another snort. “You know… you could have atleast tortured the man a little more before you snapped his neck.”

Matthew smirked at his sister who groaned and put her hands to her face. Matthew laughed as he watched her shake her head and tremble in her seat a bit before she looked up. That same look on her face as she worried her lower lip and slid her empty plate onto the table.

“He wasn’t… He wasn’t supposed to die… but he just…. kept pushing…” Belle breathed, pursing her lips now.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I’m not a murderer.” Belle blurted out.

“Sure… keep telling yourself that. But, I’m still proud of you. Belle, you’ve finally done it, you’ve finally put your dirty hands along side the rest of the Beaufont family. You’re officially just like father and I.”

~~~Three years ago ~~~~

Victor stepped up to the club, hearing the music as it warmed the air. Alcohol was in the air, but for the first time in weeks, Belle hadn’t seemed to drink. She stood in her white pumps, her pink club dress clung to her frame, her white sash across her waist hung down her long legs. Victor let himself inhale her scent before she even turned to see him. Compared to everyone else in the club, he was far more formal. He wore black slacks with a black shirt, a complimenting dark tie and vest, his fingers covered in gloves. All she could see was his neck to his scalp.

“Victor?” She spoke as she stepped away from the out crowd, crossing the dance floor. He was impressed by how fast she was to realize who was staring at her, and to recognize him in the poor and flashing lighting of the club. “This isn’t your scene… what are you doing here? How is your foot?” Her questions bombarded him as she stepped up.

He was only a few feet from her, but when she walked up to him, the scent of soft flowers and vanilla became stronger, blocking out the scent of sweating humans. Glitter fell down her face and chest, his eyes following the trail of fake glitter tattoo’s down her arms and up her thighs, roses that were white with glitter in the fake tattoo. Her peers wore similar tattoos, actually, it seemed everyone was wearing glitter tattoos all over their exposed skin. But her was much more modest, simple and almost like she wore lace stockings and sleeves.

“Your father asked me to take you home.” He answered, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the pounding music. Belle eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. She was not one to ignore directions, he had come to the realization. Especially if she knew better. And she did. He also believed she was merely trying to be nice, seeing as she had shot him in the foot. Victor watched as she huddled her girls and excused herself, acting as if a flirty girl, pointing to Victor and speaking. He couldn’t hear her but he didn’t have to, to know what she said to them.

The sly look on her face as she sauntered back up to him was enough to make his lips turn from a scowl to a smirk. Victor eyed her as she checked to ensure she had everything then waved for him to lead the way. He turned and caught eyes with his girls, they nodded slowly and escaped the crowd just a head of him. For the music blaring so loud, he felt like it was quiet.

Because Belle was not saying anything, and he feared she never would. Until they were outside and she took ahold of his arm. “Hey… I… You… I never got to apologize, truly.”

“For what?” He asked, eyeing her. Here in the street lights she didn’t seem like such a shining star, but more over dressed and over made. In the club she looked like a glimmering star, the lights always hit her just right. Maybe it was him wishing to see her in her normal clothes. Everytime he saw her she was soft, she wore floral and simple designs, they flattered her face. It made her look … kind. Something he didn’t see often.

“For shooting you. You said nothing the whole way to the cab and I haven’t heard from you.”

“You shot me. Should I have called?”

“Yes!” She blurted out, stepping up closer. Her scent that had been so strong in the club was now filling his nose. “Is it infected? Are you truly alright to stand?”

Victor eyed her before his lips broke into a smile, a chuckle breaking his lips. “You always worry about people you shoot?”

Belle flinched as she looked down to her hands. “I don’t… I’m not that kind of person. Not usually. My temper can be bad, but I keep it in check most of the time.” She looked up and Victor stepped into her space. Belle’s eyes were wide and soft as one of his fingers tucked itself under her chin. He could see her swallow hard, he could hear her inhale through her nose, he could feel her heart beat even along her jawline. Her apology was sincere. “I believe everyone is capable of some kind of violence. I believe those who deny their capability are more able than others for violence.”

Victor felt the warmth of her breath on his face as he stood just inches from her as she caught his eyes. Never moving, but it wasn’t a challenge as he nodded slowly, brushing her hair from her face. Steel eyes, he could count all the shades he had seen them. Bright and glowing, dark and dangerous, now soft and concerned. “I do not fault you for it. And I am fully healed.”

Belle let go of a breath of relief as she nodded and stepped back. “I am glad.”

“Do you think you’re capable of worse than that?” Victor added more food for thought as he took ahold of her elbow and led her down the sidewalk. “Worse than just shooting someone in the foot.”

It was her answer that stuck with him as he opened his car door and let her in. It was her answer that made it impossible not to look for the girls along the sidewalk to ensure they were playing their part of the job. It was her answer that made him look at her from his seat on the driver side as she took out wipes from her clutch and began to wipe away the excess of make-up and glitter on her skin.

“I know I am capable of much worse things than murder.” She looked to him as she cleaned her face and smiled at him. “It’s because I care too much. I also believe those who feel too much and love too hard are just as likely to commit evil.”

Victor did not want to ask what she believed of him then, so he was quiet. She sat back in his vehicle, looking to the mirror and working on the tattoos exposed on her shoulder and chest. It was the flash of white behind her, the sharp sound of a bullet through a window, and the sound of scattered footsteps that brought her forward.  
“What was that?” She looked to Victor, whirling in her seat to look through the window. But Victor had the car on and was driving straight through the darkness on the street. “Victor! What was that?.... Why did my father send you to come get me?”

Victor gripped his wheel as he whirled onto the main road and went speeding off, his phone went off at the same time. He retrieved it from his pocket and put it to his ear. “It’s done.”

“Meet me at Falcone’s tomorrow, 11.” He flipped his phone shut and slid it into his jacket.

“Victor.”

“There were threats against your life.”

“There are always threats against my life.” Belle scoffed as she wheeled more in her seat, looking behind them. Only to be flung back as Victor shoved her back, her shoulders firm against the seat as he pulled down another street.

“Your father said you only wanted me to fix this problem.” Victor added. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what! Why was there a gun shot?” Belle nearly shouted as she struggled out of his hold and looked in her rear view. “This is not the way home.”

“I believe this means your father lied.” Victor stated point blank as he turned sharply around another corner and pulled into an underground, the whole world went black. He navigated the dim white lights of the parkinglot, slowing to a creeping pace as he flipped off his lights and pulled into a space. “It’s not… you’re staying with me tonight.”

Belle eyed him as if he had lost his mind. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Someone sent pictures to your father of your entering the club earlier this evening in his email, saying for you to say your prayers. There was a hit on your head. I took care of it.” Victor unbuckled Belle and motioned for her to get out. He could see she wanted to resist, but she shoved the door open and stepped out nonetheless. However, she stood on the side of his vehicle and stars right at him. “Did you not ask for me to solve this?”

“I… I was just… I was just kidding. I didn’t… I didn’t take it seriously.” She turned and slumped herself against his car. Victor moved swiftly to her side as she looked around the parking garage. The dark made everything the same even shade, but shadows and shapes were easily seen. “I thought if I didn’t pay any attention to the threats then… it wasn’t real.”

“Everyone is capable of violence.” Victor reminded her of her own words as she turned to smile at him softly.

“Guess this means… I am really doing this.” She looked to the garage, her jaw tight and teeth clenched. “I can’t be so naive anymore….My father spoke of the threats on my family earlier this week. I joked that you should be the only one to come save me if anything happened. I said you were cute. I am… lucky my father listened to me.”

Victor held still for a moment, unable to process the words that came out of her mouth. He watched her lips curl up in a smirk as she pushed up off his car and brushed past him. “I’m Cute?”

His voice felt completely unbelievable, his brain did not process. Him? Cute… like puppies were cute, Victor was not a puppy. Belle stood in the darkness of the garage, her feet leading her towards the stairs where the only light was coming from.

“Adorable, actually.” She threw over her shoulder.

“Me?” Victor blurted out, following behind her, clicking his keys. The car locked. He flipped his key card across the screen at the stairs and opened the door. Belle brushed past him again and stepped into the stairs. It was full of air conditioning fans that roared on the stairs. Belle’s club shoes clanked louder than the fans as she climbed up the flight to the elevator door. He took out his key as they stepped into the elevator. He put his key in his lock and the elevator went straight up.

“Yes you.” She answered finally, looking to him with the same sweet smile. The elevator opened to a small hallway with a door at the end. Victor took out a different key and put it into the lock on the door. “I would know cute.”

Victor led her into the most clean, most organized apartment that she had ever been in. It was open and almost a suite. There was bamboo flooring, a soft, navy blue throw rug, matching navy blue couch. There was a large entertainment cabinet full of cd’s and vinyls, two players in the middle where most people put a television. Books littered in a controlled chaos on the book shelves to either side of the entertainment cabinet. The open kitchen had a bar and bar stools, a large fridge and stove, everything was clean but it was lived in. There were two dirty mugs on the side of the sink, a book on the bar, there were three pairs of shoes on the wall and what… “A cat?”

“I am not home nearly enough for a dog, Reginald is a good companion.” The large cow spotted cat turned at the sound of Victor’s voice and meowed. Reginald padded over to them as Belle made a sound that Victor couldn’t place. She was on her knees and scooped the feline up in her arms, aweing and hugging the cat affectionately. “He likes you.”

“He is the prettiest cat I’ve seen in ages. Oh my goodness!” She stood and looked at Victor with the softest look as she held the cat close. Reginald made no indication it bothered him as she kissed the cat on the head. “I did not expect you to have a cat.”

“He likes jazz. You’ve got clothes in my room, go on and change.” Victor nodded as Belle smiled softly and put the cat down. She stepped to go around the cat, but Reginald stepped in front of her. Side-stepping the cat, she found herself herded into Victor’s chest, looking up at the assassin.

“He really likes me.” Victor watched her cheeks change just the lightest shade.

“You are not what I expected.” He whispered. Victor leaned into her ear, smelling the scent of her face wipes over her skin. It smelt like chocolate and shea, it was barely there, erasing the floral scent that was once there. But with this one, he had to be against her skin to smell her. He didn’t know what he liked more. Being able to smell her at arms length, or having to be up close enough to feel her heart beat to smell her.

“I try to be surprising.” Her throat sounded tight and Victor smiled to himself. His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear as he pulled back just enough to kneel down. Belle seemed glued to the spot as he hoisted up Reginald off the floor and cradled him in his arms.

“Do you need help getting dressed?” Victor teased, that one shade of pink on her face was now a raging fire on her face.

“No… I got it.” She hesitated and Victor felt it. That tightening in his abdomen as he watched her stride across his floor. The sound of her heels against the floor, the way her body moved as she walked, her long hair down. Victor wanted to be against her flesh again, inhale the small scents of every inch of her body. He wanted to see if she tasted just as sweet as she smelt and acted every day towards him.

Victor put Reginald down and took a large swig of a water bottle in his fridge. This attraction was not so quickly onset, but it was just now that he realized it. Victor wanted her. His needs would kill him one day.


End file.
